


But I was late for this, late for that, late for the love of my life

by KeepGoing



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Character Study, Happy Ending, M/M, Mentioned Terry Milkovich, Mentions of Rape, Mickey's POV, Mickey/Ian relationship through Mickey's eyes, Regrets, Song fic, Terry Milkovich Being an Asshole, Third Person POV, gallavich through the years, mentions of abuse, mentions of that scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24173080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: You were late again. Too late to stop this from happening. Too late to stop him from getting under your skin and clothes. Too late to stop him from pulling away the bricks in your wall with a tire iron. Too late to stop yourself from caring.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	But I was late for this, late for that, late for the love of my life

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic inside Mickey's mind through some of the important parts of his and Ian's relationship. 
> 
> **There is major character death in this but its at the very end and its set waaaaaaaaay in the future and it is not descriptive at all.**
> 
> As always COMMENTS are LOVE. 
> 
> Lyrics taken from Cleopatra by The Lumineers

**_ But  _ ** **_ I've _ ** **_ read this script and the costume fits, so  _ ** **_ I'll _ ** **_ play my part _ **

Cold winter air fills your lungs as you bust back out onto the street from the mini mart that had failed to deliver to you your next beat down. You run; it feels like  it's all  you’ve been doing your whole life; but the object of your anger is  nowhere to  be found . Your lungs ache from the unnecessary exercise and the all the cigarettes  you’ve smoked since  practically birth , but  you’re on a mission and Milkovic h’ s d on ’ t give up. You were too late to find him this time but you make a promise to yourself  yo u w on ' t be late next time for the  red-haired fuck who messed with your sister. No matter how much you run  yo u a lways seem to  ma k e it a bit too late for everything in your life. 

You were too late to stop your mom for running out on you. You were too late to stop the last time your poor excuse for a sperm donor had pushed his way into Mandy’s room in the middle of the night. You were late to the last run that you promised you’d be at because you were too busy looking up porn you had to erase from the search history because if anyone found it, especially your sperm donor, you’d never be late for anything ever again because you’d be dead. He did beat the shit out of you that day for being late, so  in the long run you guess you got what you deserved.

You were always late for school so you just stopped going all together. You were late to the parties so you had to lie to your brothers that some girl  who’s name you  don’t remember, sucked you off against the side who the fuck knows house. You lie a lot, because  you’re always too late to have anything real to tell, and it just ends up being easier to lie. Lie about where you were. Who you were  with. Who you really  were. It keeps you just under the radar and keeps you alive. Just barely.

But as you push and shove past people on the southside sidewalk, you make a promise you  won't be late again for this Gallagher fuck. You had to finally do something right.

**_ While the church discouraged, any lust that burned within me _ **

His long fingers are digging into your hips and  he’s re-bruising old marks left there from months of him grabbing and positioning you right where he wants you. The deep purple marks never get a chance to heal to a  tint of green because you just  can't seem to stay away from him. Sometimes you lie in bed at night wondering how it all happened; how you went from searching his ginger ass out to kill him to have him slowly kill you with every thrust inside you. Because  that’s exactly what  he’s doing.  He ’ s slowly killing you in ways that he  doesn’t even realize.  He’s killing your pride; the pride you had that  you’re nobody’s bitch, but in a few short months  he’s shattered that with his lopsided smile and freckled face.  He’s killing your secret; the one you swore  you’d take to your grave because you are still certain it will be the reason for your demise someday.  He’s killing the  hardness inside yourself; the walls that took 17 years to build up around yourself to keep yourself protected and hidden in plain  sight of a homophobic ghetto town.  He’s killing the  hard fact that you believed in that love  doesn’t exist, especially for someone like you. 

He’s going to get you killed and  you’re just trying to figure out which way you want to die as his hips slam and push into you. This seems like a  pretty decent way to go. 

You were late again. Too late to stop this from happening. Too late to stop him from getting under your skin and clothes. Too late to stop him from pulling away the bricks in your wall with a tire iron. Too late to stop yourself from caring. 

And if  you're not careful.  You’ll be too late to stop this from both getting you killed. 

He  cums first, and  it's just another thing your late for. 

**_And I left the footprints, the mud stained on the carpet_**   
**_And it hardened like my heart did when you left town_**

You’re carrying his limp, cold, body out of the Uber and kick your front door open with your  snow-covered shoe. The weight you feel in your bones  isn't just from his  unconscious frame.  It’s a weight of all your mistakes. All the choices you made. All the wrong turns you  made; wrong roads you went down instead of the ones that led straight back to him. You were too late to stop him from leaving. Too late to stop him from tweaking and selling his body for money, when you should have just told him you wanted him to stay with you. Stay even though you had  knocked up some whore. Stay even though you had to marry her. Stay even though you  weren't good enough for him and too much of a pussy to stand up to your father. 

You were too late to stop your father from walking in on the two of you. Too late to stop him from tearing away the one thing that made you feel like a fucking person; the only thing you had that made living another day in this blackhole of a town worth it. You were too late to look at him; just one look saying that even though she was on top of you it  didn’t mean anything and you were just doing it so your dad  wouldn’t kill him. You were too late to stop yourself from kicking him in the face and shattering not only his teeth but whatever had  been built between the two of you as well. 

You were too late to make it right. Because even though  he’s on your bed and  he’s alive,  she’s standing there in a towel looking at you with sad eyes because she knows,  she’s always known, and  you’re too late to stop yourself from falling in love with him all over again.  You’re too late to stop her from going after him with a claw hammer and too late from stopping him from leaving you once again.  You’re too late to stop yourself from falling to your knees in front of him to take his dick in your mouth because you were too late before to stop yourself from being his bitch. 

**_Now a nurse in white shoes leads me back to my guestroom_**   
**_It's_** ** _a bed and a bathroom_**   
**_And a place for the end_**

She smiles at you when you say the word ‘boyfriend’ like  it's some sort of medal of honor you earned and should be proud of.  You’re not proud of anything, especially yourself. You were too late to stop him from running off with the baby you never wanted, but  couldn’t stand the thought of losing. You were too late to get him the help he clearly needed because you were stupid enough to think you were all he needed. He never needed you.  That’s very clear now. You were too late to love him the way you should have been before everything went to shit, because  that’s what you are, shit, and there is nothing to be proud of in the way you treated him. 

You were too late to make it up to him. To prove to him you did love him; you said it too late. You were  almost late for visiting him and  he’s not even looking at you when you sit across from him.  You’re too late to save him. To help him. And  it's too late for him to save you now. 

You were too late to see the end when it was right there in front of you the whole time when he stopped smiling at you and you were shoving pills in his face in the  hopes, you’d get him back. Back to who he was. Back to who the two of you used to be together. You were too late to stop him from breaking your heart and rebuilding the walls back up with just a few words. And you were too late and too slow to run from the  cops and her gun when you  got slammed against the brick wall and then into back of the hard seats of the squad car. 

**_ And the only gifts from my Lord were a birth and a divorce _ **

You signed the papers without even looking at them. It was too late for regrets and you  didn’t have any feeling left in you to have any. It was too late to apologize to her. It was too late to see your son one last time. It was too late to tell her you wanted to. 

It was too late for letters you wrote but never sent. It was too late to get the mark off you that  taunts you with  misshapen and misspelled letters. It was too late for lawyers and appeals. It was too late for character witnesses because who the fuck are you kidding, you have none. No character and no witnesses. You were just a number in a system now  with a sentence and a work detail. You were too late to not  get slammed into the shower wall the first week you were there and too late to stop them from touching you the way only he had ever touched you. 

You were too late to not get her to fall in love with you; too late to stop the snowball from forming and too late in not get your cell mate in on it to plan the whole thing with his gangbanger friends on the outside. 

You were too late to stop yourself from contacting him once you were out and too late to stop yourself from knowing you were going to just be too late to be with him for the rest of your life. 

**_ But  _ ** **_ that's _ ** **_ all in the past now, gone with the wind _ **

The cell door closes and his eyes look so green against the yellow. You were too late to stop him from blowing up that van. And you were too late to stop yourself from talking yourself out from rolling on the cartel and putting a target on your back for the rest of your life. You were too late to stop yourself from letting him smile at you with a relieved grin and from letting him kiss you like he  hadn’t left you; left you so many times in so  many different ways . 

You're too late to stop yourself from promising to protect him. Too late to stop yourself from falling but keeping walls up that he sees right through. Too late to stop yourself from believing him when he tells you he loves you, that he wants to be with you.  It's too late to stop yourself from having hope that he will wait this time as he says goodbye to you when he gets his freedom, but you still have god knows how long left inside without him. 

You’re too late from stopping yourself from calling him with your one phone call a week and  it's too late from hiding the smile when you see him sitting in the yard in the visitation area because you are still his bitch.  You’re too late from  getting yelled at by the guard for kissing him too long when he leaves and too late from thinking up the retarded plan to put yourself in toxic medical waste just to be able to fall asleep next to him again. 

And  you’re too late from getting your face busted up when you jump from the bus and crash through his bedroom window.  It's too late when  he’s inside you again after months of being apart;  he’s it for you and you know  you’ll die if you lose him again.  It's too late for you.  You’re ruined. 

**_ But I must admit it, that I would marry you in an instant _ **

For once  he’s late signing the paper but  you’re too late not to punch him right in his mouth and too late to stop him from falling down the stairs.  You’re too late to stop yourself from fucking Byron and too late stop the look of confusion and pain on his face when you tell him  you’re moving out. 

You’re too late from stopping him from punching your date and  you’re too late from stopping yourself from punching his. 

You’re too late in your answer to marry him even though he barely got the chance to ask you because he  didn’t need to. You were too late marrying him; you should have done it years ago. 

You were too late to stop yourself from going overboard and overwhelming him the process and too late to realize that he was right; that all you needed was you and him. As simple as that. 

You were too late to keep Terry from burning down the venue and too late getting down the  aisle because you  couldn’t stop shaking even as Sandy held your arm to keep you upright. You were too late dancing with him; you should have been dancing with him for years because you were too scared, too angry, too confused, too proud, too much of a pussy to just give him what he wanted all those years ago. If you  hadn't been too late to do those things with him; just to show him one ounce of kindness before it all went to shit;  maybe all that time  wouldn’t have  been wasted . 

But  it's too late for regrets and  it's too late to make up for the shit that you did or  didn’t do. And  it's too late to tell him all that; because  he’s holding you close with your face in the crook of his neck and you can barely  breathe, you're so happy. 

**_ when I  _ ** **_ die, _ ** **__ ** **_ I'll _ ** **_ be on  _ ** **_ time _ **

You go first, which you promised him you  wouldn’t do, but you were always shit at keeping promises and even in death you were  disappointing him. It was the only time in your life  you’d been on time and the only time you wished you were late.


End file.
